The New Game
by Fish-Inton
Summary: He was intrigued once and forever by her, and he's not about to leave her alone. She wants to place blame, she wants to start again. It's a lovehate relationship, it always has been...
1. Chapter One

The cold, harsh, wind threatened to blow her off the pavement she walked briskly along, attempting to stop her teeth chattering and failing. She turned the corner into her road and quickened her pace, wanting nothing more at that moment than to get out of the cold and into the warmth of her home. She searched around in her bag for a moment until she found her keys. Pulling them from her bag as she started up the path to the small house, she was comforted somewhat by their familiar jingling. She put the new key into the lock and turned it, the lock clicked and the door opened smoothly to reveal the small hallway and the foot of the stairs leading to the first floor.

She entered the house and set her keys on the small side table, pressing the button on the answering machine, which replayed all her messages: "Hi, you've reached Clarice Starling. I'm not in at the moment, so leave your name and number after the beep and I'll get back to you." Every word spoken in her strong West Virginian accent, reminding her of the past, reminding her that she could not run from who she was. There was one message, from her new boss, telling her that she had left her mobile phone at the office – just a reminder.

Clarice M Starling, ex-FBI agent, had only moved in a couple of months ago and was still trying to come to terms with the silence of the road compared to her old Arlington complex she shared with her best friend, Ardelia. They both still kept contact, but Clarice knew that they would eventually drift apart. Phone calls were expensive considering she had not just moved house, she had moved continent. Clarice M Starling was taking on Southend, on the South East coast of England. That she was in contact with her friend was a reminder of what she had left behind, and the English accents she heard each day were reminders that she did not belong amongst them.

_Reminder. Yeah, everything is a sodding reminder nowadays. Fuck that, fuck this town and fuck the damned world._ Her thoughts came into her head, angry and venomous, awakening the dark anger coiled deep inside her. _If it weren't for him, then I wouldn't be in this mess._ The argument with herself always came around to the subject of him, Doctor Hannibal 'the cannibal' Lecter. Clarice had managed to convince herself that it was his fault that she had to move, it was his fault that she would lose contact with her best friend and sometimes, when she was in a full swing rage, it was his fault that her father died the way he did. _It is his fault,_ she told herself again.

Whilst lost in her thoughts Clarice had removed her coat and hung it on the coat rack standing in the corner behind the front door. She finally flipped on the lights and shuffled down the hall to the kitchen, where she left her shoes by the back door and proceeded to half-slip and half-trudge around the kitchen due to her socks and angry mood. She opened the fridge and pulled out a vegetarian microwave meal for one. Since everything with Lecter, she had vowed to become a vegetarian, and she had been one for three months, much to everyone's surprise, even _The Tattler_, who had somehow learned of her whereabouts. 

_The Tattler_ had reported her as being the 'New Cannibal On The Block', so to speak. _It still got a two page story,_ Clarice reasoned with herself. Though _The Tattler_ certainly did amuse the ex-FBI agent, the day she moved in, Ardelia had called immediately to tell her that the newspaper was reporting that she had run off with Lecter and that they had been having an affair all along. Following this, reporters worldwide had made phone calls to her new house, so Clarice changed her number. Of course, she had not run off with the cannibal or anybody at all. To be honest, Clarice had no idea where he was and she did not care. _And why don't I care? Because he messed up my life, so did Jack Crawford._ She had become quite bitter and cynical towards the two men in her mind, though nobody could tell just by looking at her since she was all smiles and compliments. 

Clarice was brought crashing back to reality by the little 'bing' noise made by the microwave, signalling to her that her dinner was ready. _Great, gloopy mushroom stroganoff, thrilling stuff,_ Clarice snorted at her thoughts. She removed the hot plastic tray from the microwave and removed the pierced plastic cover from the top, turning her face away from the steam which billowed to the ceiling. She moved to put the thin plastic into the bin and get a fork, but stopped stone still when she saw something in the dining room. After a moment or two of listening and searching, she shrugged, opened the lid of the bin, dropped the plastic in, closed the lid and reached for a fork. Standing straight again, Clarice began to stir the mushroom stroganoff in the small plastic container. She grabbed one of the clean plates which were stacked up next to the kettle, waiting to be put back in their cupboard. With a quick flip of the container, she emptied the rice and mushroom stroganoff on to the plate. Then, fork between teeth and hot plate in hands, Clarice moved to the darkened dining room which was connected to the kitchen and set her meal down on the table. She moved to the light switch, but stopped, turned dived under the table and punched the person hiding there square in the nose.

That was what she would have done, had that person not been anticipating this behaviour. The fact that that person caught her fisted hands before she could inflict any damage was also a disadvantage to Clarice Starling. 

_You're not in the FBI anymore, pal,_ she reminded herself as she struggled to free herself from the grasp of her captor. _Wouldn't The Tattler just love this? 'Clarice Starling struggling under the table with...' who with? Hannibal Lecter? Yeah, right... _Clarice then made the mistake of kneeing her captor in the groin, eliciting a groan of pain from _him_. He then slammed his head on the top of the table, making the plate and the fork clatter about violently. Clarice saw her chance to escape and did so, grabbing the nearest weapon she could when she was free from the cramped space under the small table. The weapon: her fork, still partially covered in mushroom stroganoff and rice. _How dangerous do I look now? Lady with a fork, coming through! _She backed into the kitchen, eyes on the figure under the table. Why was he not moving? Had he had enough already? Maybe his plan was to rape her, but she fought back... but why wouldn't he chase her? She had not seen his face, and he knew that.

What Clarice had not realised, as she backed further into the light kitchen and away from the dark dining room, was that her 'attacker' was staring at the figure behind her. However, Clarice did acknowledge that there was somebody behind her. She acknowledged this when she backed straight into him. She whirled around, only to have the fork knocked from her hand and her wrists grabbed by the second uninvited guest of the evening. This man, however, had his face covered by a mask of some sort. With a sudden burst of energy, Clarice managed to wrestle herself out of his grip and away.

"Who the _fuck_ are you and what the _fuck_ do you want from me?!" she screamed at both men.

"I don't know, lady, but I'm gone!" the man under the table unlocked the back door and fled, leaving only the ex-FBI agent and the masked intruder in the kitchen.

Clarice grabbed the biscuit tin and took aim at the intruder. "I'm warning you now," she began threateningly, "I _will_ hit you with this if you don't leave."

The intruder clicked his tongue disapprovingly and removed his mask.

The biscuit tin clattered noisily to the tiled kitchen floor.


	2. Chapter Two

"Well, hello, Clarice," drawled the metallic voice of the uninvited guest.

"Doctor Lecter, what are you doing here?" Clarice asked, her voice barely above a whisper. In fact, her voice was so quiet that the whisper was almost lost in the kitchen.

"Is it illegal to check on an old friend?" The Doctor's maroon eyes sparkled.

_Leave. I have to make him leave, he has to leave now, _her mind told her repeatedly.

"Leave now! I'm serious!" she began in a voice which was, in her opinion, too loud. He moved towards her. "Stop! Don't come any closer!"

The Doctor feigned hurt. "Why, Clarice, this is most unexpected. Especially considering your previous attitudes at Chesapeake Bay-" the Doctor moved nearer, despite her previous warning, "I could smell you, my dear," he whispered in her ear._ Is he being intentionally lewd?_ Clarice wondered to herself, feeling strangely detached from the real world. _Shock, it's just shock. Get back in control, girl. What would Ardelia do?_ After mulling over just what Ardelia Mapp would do, Clarice decided that slapping the offending party, screaming, running, feigning sexual interest, or all of the above, would not work. No qualms about it.

"You sick son of a bitch." She pushed him forcefully away from her, using her agility to get on the other side of the cannibal. She made a dash out of the kitchen door and to the shelf by the front door, where she picked up the phone. There was no dial tone. _Damn, _she thought, _why am I so stupid?_ Before she could answer her own question, the Doctor's voice invaded her mind.

"Clarice, you cannot run forever."

_But I can try. _The stubbornness had never truly left the ex-FBI Agent, and seemed to attack her thoughts at every opportunity.

She turned around to face the man she had labelled as her enemy. "Why are you doing this?" she asked him, as her mind reeled trying to find some means of escape. The front door was too obvious, and where could she go to? The train station was a bus journey away and her neighbours most likely did not want to know her. _What is it with these damn English people and their damn aversion to Americans?_

"I confess, my curiosity got the better of me, I was in the neighbourhood and decided to call in - for old time's sake." The Doctor's metallic voice brought her crashing down from the clouds, and back to the argument at hand.

_In the neighbourhood? When is he not in the neighbourhood? Which neighbourhoods does he not visit? Maybe I can go and live in London. In a cardboard box. And catch the plague. Then he wouldn't touch me with a twenty-foot pole, I'm sure of it._

"Old time's sake? Has it never occurred to you that I don't want to see you? Has it never even crossed you mind that, because of what you've done, I hate you?"

"Why ever might you feel that way, EX-Special Agent Starling?" he hissed at her.

_That was low, and you know it. _The little girl in her head wanted to stick her tongue out at the nasty red-eyed man, squeal in delight, and run away to her tree house. But in reality she was not a little girl, and she had no tree house, and if she stuck her tongue out she feared for her safety. As for squealing with delight and running away... he was a cannibal, and running did absolutely nothing... she had, after all, been running ever since 'The Chesapeake Incident' as she had come to refer to it. _A slightly vague term,_ she admitted to herself.

"Because I do," she muttered in cold response.

"Oh, come now, Clarice, surely you can give a better answer than 'because I do'?"

_Oh, so, we're playing this game now? Well, suit yourself Doctor. You have no idea anymore. You don't know me at all._ The little girl was gone. She was the toughened woman, and at that moment she felt indestructible.

"Fine," she snapped, the boiling anger inside her rising. "The reason I hate you, Doctor 'I'm so great' Lecter, is simply because of this: You. Ruined. My. Life. I've just spelled it out for you, and I'm sure your obviously far more superior intelligence can digest just those four little words and work out just what they might mean. It's not difficult." She moved away from the phone and towards the cannibal. _What the fuck am I doing?_ Clarice stepped right up to the Doctor so that they were almost eye to eye. "Do you honestly think I can feel anything but hatred towards you after all you've done to me?"

"I think we're getting the picture here," Doctor Lecter said quietly, standing stone still. Then he did something Clarice did not anticipate at all. He struck out. _What have I done?_ was the last thought to register in her mind before her world went black, and she was falling into blackness.


	3. Chapter Three

Hey All,  
  
We at Fishcorp would like to issue the following apology for the lateness of this post:  
"_SORRY!_"  
  
Huggles to all who have reviewed and all who **_are_ going to** after they read this chapter!   
  
Ciao,  
**Fish **

* * *

She awoke with a low groan as the reality of her situation and her headache hit her with full force. A million and one thoughts raced through her head at the same time and she found herself becoming quite angry.  
  
"Ah, the sleeping beauty awakens," mumbled the owner of the metallic voice to her left.  
  
"Doctor Lecter, leave me alone." A tear slid from her eye, only to be swept away by a thumb... a thumb which shouldn't have been there... _A thumb which was picked up at the Chesapeake crime scene,_ she reminded herself. _I'm dreaming... it's just another dream. Daddy will rush in at any moment now and we'll be safe at home.  
  
_"They never told you the results of the DNA testing on that thumb, did they, Clarice?" The hand waved in front of her face. "Tsk, tsk, so much you weren't included in after that... _so rude._"  
  
"Why are you doing this?" Clarice choked back the sobs which threatened to be vocalised... albeit painfully since her throat was parched.  
  
"I told you, I was merely checking up on you... though I had never anticipated to find you in such a state. So, here I have brought you... here being the place you will recover from the obvious illness you have been overcome by." She heard the slight rustle of expensive fabric and assumed he had shrugged.  
  
"Right. Hate is illness?" She raised her eyebrow at him.  
  
"Do not make me angry again, Clarice."  
  
"Oh, so the truth isn't all it's cracked up to be for you now? What was it, hmmm, kill them just 'cause the truth didn't suit **you**?"  
  
"I will not repeat myself," the cannibal replied, his anger communicated by the volume of his voice - dangerously quiet.  
  
"Good." After hearing her reply, Doctor Lecter rose from his seat beside her and left the room, the door locking with a muffled 'click'. Clarice attempted to turn over, but found herself tied to the bed she was on. _And I didn't notice this before?_ She fought against the bonds for a moment but stopped. _I'm never going to get away from here alive.  
  
_

* * *

Doctor Lecter sat on the balcony outside the attic room, which he had made into his private study. Music from the street outside permeated his world for a moment, the lyrics sweeping around him with the cool evening air.  
  
"I've been the needle and the thread,  
Weaving figure eights and circles round your head.  
I try to laugh but cry instead,  
Patiently wait to hear the words you've never said.  
Fumbling through your dresser drawer, forgot what I was looking for,  
Try to guide me in the right direction.  
Making use of all this time,  
Keeping everything inside,  
Close my eyes and listen to you cry..."  
  
He blocked the rest of the noise out. He did not want anything to get to him now, especially not lyrics from a song that was not about him or Clarice. Little did he know that at the same time, Clarice was being assaulted by music where she was.  
  
"To all the fights I've conquered and behold,  
The times have changed and I will now move over slowly...  
But through it all I still feel lost without you,  
Hard to find a new soul,  
The silence takes its toll...  
Just _sway_...  
You don't know...  
Just _sway_...  
You don't know...  
Just _sway_...  
And all you want is to find home..."  
  
"Argh... SHUT UP!" she yelled in the direction of the music which surrounded her with it's dark sensuality, knowing that her attempt was completely futile since the volume of her voice was no match for the volume of the music. "Damn." The volume of the music also meant that the ex-FBI agent did not hear the door unlocking. Nor did she see the door open, for her eyes were closed to the world as she attempted to block the noise out and consider what her options were.  
  
_Knock, knock, my dear..._ The Good Doctor unlocked the door and entered the room. He had expected some sort of verbal attack from his Clarice, but was greeted with nothing but music which came from a source separate to the boom-box which had broken the few moments of silence he had earlier. He observed Clarice Starling, eyes closed, as she battled her demons... or the music, either way... what was it that they called it? Modern rock? Nu-metal? _A poor excuse to use inappropriate language._ He snorted at his thoughts, totally off topic to what he had gone to Clarice's room for.  
  
"What do you want?" He heard her ask him over the music, which had quietened down considerably.  
  
"How did you know I was here?"  
  
"You're answering a question with a question, Doctor Lecter."  
  
"Quid pro quo, Clarice, just like old times."  
  
She snorted at his humour. "Whatever. How do I know? You have a..." she searched for the right words, "certain _presence_ about you... it's unmistakeable... and you are wearing some strong, albeit expensive, aftershave - a little difficult to mistake you really."  
  
"Ah, I see."  
  
"Will you answer my question?"  
  
"All in good time."  
  
"That's you all over, isn't it, hmm? You don't tell me anything, you just put it off or stall me with the wrong answers... or worse, more questions... you're a shrink through and through, aren't you?"  
  
"Perhaps we can save this discussion for later." Lecter made his way to the door.  
  
"You get back here!" she called out to him as he exited the room, closing the door, "I'm not finished with you yet!" A click as the door was locked again. She waited for fifteen minutes before trying out her 'emergency-and-last-ditch-attempt-at-freedom': "I need the toilet!" Thankfully, all music had disappeared from earshot, the noise replaced by the tranquil sounds of the evening - birds chirping to occasionally break the silent calm.  
  
The lock clicked back.


	4. Chapter Four

Hi all,

(For _Shubunkin_): I'm English too, I just was probably both angry and trying to put myself in the position of Clarice at the time... she's kinda paranoid in her new surroundings as they are unfamiliar, so everyone is an enemy for her. I guess she's also still full of hate - the extent of said hate is yet to be revealed to you readers! But I meant _no_ offence, I apologise for the offence it cause you though.

To everyone who has reviewed and **WILL** review (_look into my eyes..._), thankies! And I send you all huggles! 

Also, could anonymous reviewers please leave their e-mail addresses as I plan to get back to people with questions they might have in their reviews! Thanks!

* * *

She could picture the look on his face when he would enter the room, humour dancing in his maroon eyes. _Fucker,_ she thought venomously, her eyes darkening, _fucking fucker... wanking little-_

"The toilet, Clarice?" Doctor Lecter cocked his head to one side, observing her with his blank face, though his eyes did, indeed, sparkle... _I'll just bet you find this hilarious, Doctor Fucker._

"Yeah," she stopped and willed herself to calm down, he would not win this time, "I mean, yes, Doctor Lecter, I need to relieve myself - would you allow me to do so?"

"Of course, provided you do not attempt anything."

She feigned hurt. "Would I?"

"No hitting me over the head with the table lamps? And certainly no kneeing yours truly in the groin. Nicely done, by the way, I doubt he'll be back anytime soon." The cannibal gave her a wink and a smile worthy of the deadliest alligator.

"Thanks." She remained silent as he untied her.

"Stay here, please."

"Of course." He then left the room, only to return holding- _What the- a BEDPAN?!_

"Doctor Lecter, I would have thought that you would allow me to use the bathroom." She spoke as cordially as she possibly could given her current attitude towards him. His humour was quickly becoming insufferable.

"I'm afraid not, Clarice." He set the pan on the floor by the door. "Ta ta." With a short wave and a nod, he left, closing and locking the door behind him.

"You can't keep me in here forever, Doctor!" Clarice screamed through the door, banging on it repeatedly, only wearing herself out. Defeated, she turned her back to the door and leaned against it. After a couple of minutes, she began to glare at the bedpan. She had a plan.

* * *

Doctor Lecter had listened to her movements through the door for a few moments before silently slipping away downstairs to the ground floor - it was lunchtime, and he was hungry... but not for food.

He ate anyway. The leftovers of the beef he had eaten with his Sunday roast were kept in the fridge. Content with his decision on what to eat for lunch, he let his mind wander whilst he set about preparing the aforementioned meal. His mind wandered from the moment he had first caught scent of the FBI Agent - fresh and innocent. Now, she was bitter and full of resent, and he could tell - it radiated from her eyes and her very core... and if the eyes were indeed windows to the soul, then his Clarice was turning into something other that what he had ever expected. _Still she ceases to surprise me._ He snorted indignantly as his thoughts and continued to slice the beef.

He had travelled the world after the night at the Chesapeake, starting with Japan, where a couple of 'game-freaks' met their unfortunate end due to their exceptionally large egos. The Doctor had enjoyed himself in Japan and had flown from the Osaka International Airport to the Larnaka International Airport on the island of Cyprus under the name of Doctor Alex Smith. Doctor Smith also enjoyed himself during his time in Cyprus which remained, surprisingly, murder free for the entire three weeks he stayed there. His days were filled with sun, sea and sand, and also long walks and visits to Mount Olympus and Mount Selvili Tepe. The latter of the two mountains, he found, was in fact one-thousand and twenty-three metres in height. _You learn something new every day, _he had mused at the time as he sipped another fine wine. From there his next stop was Torrevieja, Spain, and then on to London, England, arriving safe, sound and very well tanned at Heathrow airport. _Freedom must be enjoyed. I am still enjoying it... admiring it's crystal perfection,_ Lecter reasoned with himself at random, as though a part of him was asking him why he was wasting his time. _Time is not being wasted, it is being savoured, and it should be savoured, all around the world._

The Doctor took himself and his plate, which had his beef and mustard sandwich on, to the veranda, where he watched as the sun began it's descent in the clear skies.

He had chosen the perfect location to stay. _And to make it more perfect, there isn't another soul to be found for miles. Somebody up there is looking out for me. _He raised his eyes to the sky and took a bite out of his sandwich. After his relatively late lunch, he would set the next phase of his plan into action. _Showtime..._


	5. Chapter Five

_Heya,_

_I just read through the last chapter... do you think I used the Encarta Atlas too much? And what was I thinking?! Writing everything around his making and eating a beef and checks mustard sandwich?! I'm done now. Enjoy this chapter - it took me a while to get my head around what the pair were going to do next... and no, THAT never crossed my mind. Well, not until now anyway. How lewd..._

_Thanks to_ Marcus Aurelius, Alisha, Lecterlove, Clariz, Hanniballover1181_, and _Saavik_ (of course!) for reviewing the last chapter. Also, thanks to anyone who reviewed the last chapter. You know what? Thanks to everyone who reviewed and anyone who forgot to review, but read the fic up to now anyways._

_On with the show! :hums merrily:_

_Teehee, I feel merry!

* * *

_Starling had not calmed down. She had paced back and forth in the small room hot-headedly, growing more appreciative of the floorboards beneath her feet which did not creak. _Thank heavens._ Her plan was a plan which relied on total chance... and the Good Doctor's own mistakes. _If this doesn't work, I am going to die. "Die" as in... not come back. "Die" as in... he is going to **kill** me._ Whilst she warred with her two inner-selves, she continued to pace the room. Perhaps if she paced enough, she would find some sort of answer. An answer other than the plan she had already made.  
  
Five minutes later found Clarice sitting on the comfortable bed and staring at the wall directly across from her. _What to do, what to do?_ She tapped her foot in time with her thoughts. _What to do, what to do, what to do?_ Ten minutes later she answered her question with a yawn. So she lay down on the queen sized bed to think. Eventually, she was so overcome with exhaustion that she fell into a deep sleep. Her plan would have to wait.

* * *

Doctor Lecter climbed the stairs which led to the second floor of the house. He approached the door to Clarice's room. Producing the key from his pocket as he neared the door, his senses heightened as he caught the scent of her.  
  
Her.  
  
His Clarice.  
  
Well, she would be, when she finally came around to admitting her true feelings. He was sure of it.  
  
The key turned in the lock. The mechanism made the 'click' and the Doctor turned the doorknob. Before opening the door completely, he stopped and tasted the air, savouring it as though it were a fine wine. Pain, he tasted pain. The cannibal suddenly felt torn between two extremes. The monster wanted to cause more pain, pain on which it could feed. The man, however, wanted to remove the pain, wanted to make it all better, wanted to make everything perfect forever.  
  
More than a little frustrated and confused, the Doctor entered the room. He expected the bedpan which came hurtling towards his head and ducked out of its path. What he had not expected, however, was a shrieking war cry and Clarice Starling flying at him when he straightened once more.  
  
The pair went tumbling out of the open door and on to the hardwood floor of the upstairs hallway. Starling clawed at Lecter wildly, though inflicting next to no damage with her bitten down nails. The Doctor caught her arms and rolled them both over until he finally had control of the situation again.  
  
"Clarice..." he hissed. She glared at him, jaw set, remaining silent. He would not win this time.  
  
The Doctor's grip did not loosen on her arms as they lay there, on the floor, each awaiting the other's next move.  
  
_And this proves how much thinking these sorts of things through really helps... why didn't I think this through?_ Clarice reprimanded herself as she lay there, under the cannibal. _I wonder just how many women would give their liver to be in my position now... probably a few... weirdos. Maybe I'll die... like this... slowly crushed... I think my rib-cage is about to-_ Clarice was suddenly on the receiving end of an idea which would undoubtedly get her out of the position she was in. _I wish I was a better actress._ She gave a yelp of pain. The Doctor cocked his head and looked down at her with mounting curiosity and _Oh my, was that concern I saw just flicker in those eyes? I do believe the world is ending.  
  
_"Something the matter, Clarice?"  
  
"You're... ow... squashing me. My ribs... hurt." Clarice added a grimace to her theatrical performance, praying it was enough to convince the overly perceptive man atop her.  
  
The Doctor looked unimpressed with her attempt. "Tsk, tsk, Clarice, did you honestly think I'd fall for that?"  
  
"No, you are really hurting me." She would not give in so easily to him.  
  
"Clarice, do not try my patience." Purposefully, his weight bore down on her, until he really was hurting her.  
  
"Just get off me, it hurts!" With an almighty shove on Starling's part, Lecter had ended up on the hardwood floor beside her, gasping for air before regaining his composure. Clarice rolled on to her side and clutched at her ribs, sure she would have some sort of bruise forming later on. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, counting to ten before exhaling then repeating the exercise. _Well,_ she considered, _at least I'm out of the room._  
  
Whilst Clarice had been lost in thought, the Good Doctor had ascertained that there was nothing wrong with her and that his Little Starling had merely tried to trick him. _Pitiful._ He shook his head at her turned back. She turned around and stared at him for a moment... directly into his maroon eyes. He was the first to look away, assisting her in the task of standing. Her eyes had searched him... he felt her almost raking his soul for answers.  
  
Answers he knew all too well were long overdue. 


	6. Chapter Six

Finding no answers in the maroon depths of her captor's eyes, Clarice gave up her silent search for the key to her psychological dilemma and sat up on the hardwood floor. Finding no sign of broken ribs, she ignored the cannibal who was staring rudely at her and closed her eyes, breathing deeply... relaxing.  
  
Inhale... two, three, four. Exhale... two, three, four. Repeat.  
  
She had seen something in his eyes... when her acting had convinced him, however briefly... but was in concern? It appeared so... she could think of nothing else. Surely, it could not be love, not after all the rejection she had subjected him to. _Or maybe he's into that sort of thing... I mean, he's been branded a sicko. Heh, psycho sicko._ She shuddered at the idea of Hannibal Lecter ever being turned on by playing the submissive party. She had always imagined him as the dominant one... in everything, though she certainly had not thought of him in the sexual sense. _Well, not often_, she corrected, not realising she was smiling slightly.  
  
The Good Doctor observed as the object of his affections smiled to herself. _What is going through that mind of yours, my dear?_ He too smiled as he silently stood up, unnoticed by the ex-FBI agent who appeared to be lost in thought, but he smiled for another reason: The New Game was certainly swerving in the opposite direction to that which he had planned... but he looked forward to it nonetheless, for a game was what he needed... craved. Especially where his Little Starling was involved. _Especially_, his thoughts echoed.  
  
Clarice was shaken out of her reverie by a noticeable movement in the air. She watched as Doctor Lecter stepped into a room lit by something that looked suspiciously like a computer screen. _Unless..._ she began, _unless he's gone to Japan... and bought one of those screen shaped lamps to fool burglars... no doubt he's had plenty of burglar burgers in this place._ She shivered at the thought of what he might have done in the building of which she sat on the increasingly cold floor. Standing slowly, to keep her balance as she was still shaken from her sudden burst of energy which launched her into the Doctor and still full of adrenaline, Clarice moved to the stairs which led to the ground floor. Just as she was about to descend the stairs, equally cold and wooden as the floor she had lay on no more than five minutes before, a metallic yet melodic voice drifted to her ears.  
  
"Feel free to explore, Agent Starling. I doubt you know where I have brought you, and even if you did I'm sure your past training and experiences would teach you not to try my patience... again." The door to the room Lecter had entered closed with a soft click. Clarice considered his words. Clearly he still wanted her... something told her that fact was a given. _EX-Agent Starling_, she corrected him mentally, rolling her eyes at the closed door. _Well, it could be worse; I'm not dead. Yet._ Not wishing to dwell on the possibilities of when and how she would die, Clarice shook herself from her train of thought and forced her attentions on exploring, as the Doctor had put it. She turned back to the stairs and descended as quietly as she could, pleasantly surprised when she found none of the steps even squeaked. _Must be hard on his ears_, she thoughts sympathetically about him. _Wait... am I thinking about him like this? Why, after all this time do I suddenly feel... home?_ Shaking her head and pushing those thoughts to the very back of her mind, she turned into the nearest door on the ground floor.

* * *

Doctor Lecter sat at his laptop, the screen of which being the only light in the room. True, he had indeed purchased one of the screen shaped lamps whilst in Japan, but had not found that he needed it since the crime rate in the area was very low. _Even with a cannibal in the neighbourhood... what a lovely area._  
  
He had originally purchased the laptop to speak to Clarice under an alias, just to get a rise out of her. Unfortunately, other events had put an end to that idea... namely Clarice getting rid of her old computer and ending up there, at his new home, with him... albeit unwillingly.  
  
A window popped up on the screen in front of what he was typing. "How rude," the Doctor commented, expecting only an advert. Instead of the ad, however, was an instant messenger window. Somebody was talking to him:  
  
**Shadowcastle139:** Hi.  
  
The text cursor blinked rhythmically. Lecter thought for a moment, then replied:  
  
**DAS:** Hello.  
  
**Shadowcastle139:** asl? How are you?  
  
"Asl?" Lecter pronounced slowly... asl. He was not familiar to instant messaging. Suddenly, an idea came to him. He minimised all other windows and left the room, descending the stairs, leaving Shadowcastle139 to wonder where DAS had gone.

* * *

The room Clarice had wandered into was, in fact, the kitchen. An uncomfortable feeling of unease filled her mind. _The kitchen. His kitchen._ She pulled herself together though, observing the layout. It was a clean kitchen, very tidy and modern. The tap over the sink looked very well designed, and had she been in her own kitchen she would have undoubtedly studied it and messed around with the technology it used... for it was no ordinary tap. Like her own kitchen, there was no garbage disposal. She missed her old garbage disposal unit. The "baa" of a sheep brought her back to the real world, in the neat kitchen. She looked out of the window to see a beautiful sight. The sun was setting in the distance, the last rays of light trickling through the trees and into the huge open field beyond the boundaries of the property she stood in. In the field were sheep, lots of sheep. She watched in awe as the sun made patterns across the field, it was beautiful sight to behold and, for a moment, she forgot where she was.  
  
"Thirsty, Clarice?" She screamed and whirled around to see Hannibal Lecter armed with a pitcher of water and two glasses.  
  
"Umm... yes, I suppose."  
  
He handed her a glass full of water. "I trust I did not harm you upstairs."  
  
"Not as much as I originally thought, no." Clarice sipped at her water, wondering where the conversation was going. He seemed perfectly happy to leave her be only five minutes before.  
  
"Excellent. I was worried for a moment and so felt I should offer my apologies."  
  
"Right. Well, apology accepted. Slap across the wrists. Don't do it again." The Doctor chuckled at her words and she found herself smiling. Surely chuckling was not a bad sign.  
  
"The same could be said about your little escape plan."  
  
Clarice was lost for a moment. "Oh, right," she recalled, "that. Yeah, I'm sorry about that, but I really didn't like being in that room."  
  
"You know, Clarice, I was incarcerated in a cell much smaller for eight years."  
  
"And look how you turned out," she retorted... but without bitterness. This surprised Doctor Lecter, but not a great deal. All was well and he was edging closer to his goal.  
  
His eyes met hers, red sparks emphasised by the dying glow of the sun behind her. "I believe you'll find I ended up there because of how I turned out. It did not change me, Clarice."  
  
She thought for a moment. "Too bad."  
  
"Indeed," he muttered, maroon eyes directed at the floor for a second. "How much have you seen of the house so far?"  
  
"Only here... and I haven't looked in the refrigerator yet."  
  
"Trust me, Agent Starling, you will find no human meat in there. I've been decidedly... 'good' recently." Clarice fought the urge to snort as he said that; she could practically see the devil horns poking through his un-naturally dark hair. _Somebody's been raiding the hair dye.  
_  
"I see." The bluntness of the answer was not lost on him. She was thinking, he could almost hear the cogs turning in her head. _Like clockwork._ He knew she was restraining herself against any more rude outbursts and, possibly, any more physical attacks he genuinely appreciated her efforts... not that he was going to tell her. "So tell me, Doctor, what was your real reason for coming down here?"  
  
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Ms. Starling. Could you rephrase?"  
  
"Of course, Mr Lecter," she answered patronisingly... but it was not rudeness, thus, he would let it slide this time. "What I meant was that it is not at all in your nature to be apologetic seeing as all that you do is intentional; you think before you take each step down the hallway. So you merely coming down here to apologise is, if you'll excuse my bluntness, pathetic." _And it don't come any clearer than that,_ thought Lecter in a West Virginian accent. He had a strange habit of doing that and found he could not stop it.  
  
It was no big deal for him to confess what he needed her help with, as he knew that, whatever her answer, knowing at least one chink in his armour would make her feel more at ease. He gave a dramatic sigh: "Ms Starling... Clarice... I confess, I need your help on my computer. I know you booted your old one out, but I'm sure you know more than I when it comes to instant messengers... cursed things." His tone was light and she felt, almost instantly, that she was on her way to getting the upper hand in the situation.  
  
"Fine. Though I'm surprised you have a computer. What were you going to do, talk to me? Ask me how I've been doing?"  
  
"Something along those lines. Follow." It was a simple command, vocalised by no means unpleasantly, Clarice felt slightly more at ease... totally forgetting that it was he who had hit her less than twenty-four hours previously.  
  
The pair reached the room and Doctor Lecter sat on a stool he moved from the corner of the room whilst Clarice had the honour of seating herself in the large, sinfully comfortable leather chair placed before the desk. She gave an involuntary squeak of surprise as she sank further into the chair than she had anticipated she would. It certainly was not a proper chair to use when in front of a computer, not unless the user wanted to end up with back problems.  
  
She scanned the conversation he had actually managed to have and could not, for the life of her, figure out what it was he was having difficulty with.  
  
"Tell me, Doctor Lecter, what is it you're failing to comprehend?"  
  
"Asl," he replied bluntly. She promptly burst out laughing.  
  
"Asl?! Doctor, it's A, S, L... it stands for 'age', 'sex', 'location'." He said nothing, but his ears were turning quite red. "Right, let's reply!" Clarice exclaimed all too cheerfully for the Good Doctor's liking. What was she doing?  
  
**Shadowcastle139:** asl? How are you?  
  
**DAS:** 14/m/scotland. I am well. Asl?  
  
**Shadowcastle139:** 14/f/England.  
  
She tapped the keyboard pensively before replying:  
  
**DAS:** Cool.  
  
Lecter raised his eyebrows. "'Cool', Clarice? Honestly."  
  
"Well, Doctor, you are a fourteen year old, remember?" Clarice gestured to the screen as she rose from the chair. "Now, if that's all, I'll continue exploring."  
  
"Thank-you, Clarice. I feel young again."  
  
She snorted at his bluntness. "Well, don't expect any 'go to your room' talk from me. It's rude, right?" With that, she left.  
  
"Indeed..." He seated himself in the chair, opening a new Notepad document to note down all the abbreviations. He would have to either ask Shadowcastle139 or Clarice what they all meant. It was then that he realised what Clarice had set up. _Asl... age, sex, location... I'm a 14 year old sitting at his computer in Scotland now, am I? Good form indeed, Clarice, nicely done._

* * *

**A/N:** How was it?  
Many thanks to all who have reviewed, all the aforementioned throughout the A/N's and _Nan_, _Fighting-This-War_, and _QuiteSilent_.  
Thanks, you guys!  
Ciao! 


	7. Chapter Seven

_**A/N:** Okay... here goes:  
**HOLY CRAPPOLA!** I didn't realise you guys liked this story so much!  
I come back and check and... 33 reviews... **THIRTY-THREE**! WAHEY!  
Thank-you all so much! I've had half of this chapter written for sometime but have been busy with things other than school for once, (I've also started on a new Harry Potter fic which I intend to finish, see more on that after this note).  
Thank-you to everyone who has reviewed so far and I hope you guys all come back and read this chapter! Don't give up on me yet, I've had to really sort myself out before continuing this - as with all of my fics, this has no plan... I love living on the edge! Yeah, right, Fish._  
"Onwards and upwards" _as my form tutor says... I think I'll dedicate this chapter to him: "MR STEVE NEWTON, THIS ONE'S FOR YOU!"  
__Ciao all,  
_**_Fish_  
**_PS: The new HP fic is going to be HG/SS eventually because I'm a sucker for that ship, but for the moment there is no pairing. It's a humour fic and it's been getting some positive reviews. It's called Naked Time! and is hosted here on so go check it out if you're interested!

* * *

_

Clarice had returned to the ground floor of the house, which, as she had discovered, was much larger than she originally thought. The kitchen had been a modest size, suited for one or two adults, and the room she had awoken in was smaller than the Doctor's 'study', which was fairly large. The hallways were wide and the ceilings high, showing that the building had obviously been around for a while... she did not realise how right she was, the building had in fact been there for just over a century. The house, as it was large but not gigantic, was tastefully decorated in warm, rich colours, ranging from red and a warm orange to beige with gold-leaf accents in a 'pretty' pattern covering the walls.

She turned right at the foot of the stairs to enter the living room and was welcomed by a glowing, softly crackling, burning fire in front of which sat several leather armchairs and a large sofa to match. The furniture seemed to have been thrown together at random, but the end result was by no means distasteful. "True to form," she said to herself whilst appreciating the cosy, yet strangely surreal, atmosphere of the room. It was perfect, too perfect. _But this is Hannibal Lecter... there is no less to be expected, right?_ she questioned herself, only to receive a surprising reply, _in EVERYTHING? Does that include sex?_

Her thoughts were cut off by a creak from upstairs. Instinct kicked in and she stood, in the doorway of the living room, stone still... listening. Five minutes later, she revised her mental plan of the rooms she had seen, and realised that the Good Doctor was sitting almost directly above her. _Under him again, eh?_ her thoughts interrupted her again. Suddenly, 'FBI Clarice was in the building' and proverbially kicking her lewd thoughts in the backside to keep them quiet. _It's not real anyways,_ she reprimanded 'Lewd Clarice', _you're a woman, and you haven't managed to get any for well over a year.  
_  
After arguing with herself in the doorway for a further ten minutes, set once again on her task of exploring the downstairs Starling strode across the living room and through an inconspicuous door into what appeared to be the dining room. Apparently, one could not enter the dining room from the small hall at the bottom of the stairs, instead one had to venture through either kitchen or living room. _Not a bad layout,_ she reflected, nodding approval.

* * *

Doctor Lecter was having a whale of a time. Usually he hated lying, but the Instant Messenger Charade he was playing was good, clean, half-honest fun. Shadowcastle139 was a very pleasant, polite person, and they were playing Internet Chess together.

They had conversed about several interesting topics and other not-so-interesting topics, but still the Doctor felt he had learned something. He also had three new music files to listen to. _Thank heavens for Broadband,_ he had thought in an uncharacteristically merry fashion as the files downloaded relatively speedily.

Then, disruption struck. There was a crash from downstairs. A very loud crash. Very loud crashes in Hannibal Lecter's house mean serious and expensive damage. His patience with Clarice's exploring, he found, was wearing thin. He rolled his eyes and typed "brb" to Shadowcastle139 before hauling himself out of his comfortable chair to investigate the undoubtedly broken source of the crash.

He had not, however, clicked "Send".

**Shadowcastle139:** Checkmate.

The cursor blinked.  
**  
Shadowcastle139:** Hello?

The cursor continued its rythmnic blinking.

**Shadowcastle139:** DAS?

Both the cursor and Shadowcastle139 were oblivious to the shouting downstairs. The source of the shouting was, of course, the one and only Clarice Starling.

**Shadowcastle139:** I g2g now, maybe talk to you later?

The shouting ceased and a low voice spoke calmly and evenly to the clearly distressed woman. Apparently, they had come to an agreement.

**Shadowcastle139:** Maybe we can play a new game later? Bye. XX.

Footsteps ascended the stairs, Doctor Lecter entered his private room and sat at the computer, only to be greeted by a somewhat unwelcome message: **SHADOWCASTLE139 HAS LOGGED OUT.** Hannibal Lecter was a disappointed man, he read the messages and berated himself upon realising he had not clicked the "Send" button and must have therefore appeared that which he so despised. Rude.

He resolved to e-mail Shadowcastle139 with an apology at once.

* * *

Hannibal Lecter is a decent man.

Clarice Starling knew this. In fact, she had been terrified of what he would do when the drawer fell out of the unit in the kitchen. Her initial thoughts had in fact been: _Oh fuck. I am a dead chicken. Can I fit through the kitchen window?_ Thankfully, nothing was broken, but there was a lot of expensive looking silverware strewn across the expensive looking tiled floor. He surprised her by not losing his rag, as he had at her home, and by not shouting back at her or using a threatening tone. He merely assured her that it was no problem and that the drawer had done that before, and that he did not think her incredibly nosy for looking around the drawers and cupboards since he had, to be blunt, ordered her to explore... in a very 'live chicken' way.

"You _suggested_ I explore," she had reasoned.

"To your ears, perhaps," he had replied cryptically after a moment of silence. "Do carry on, I have some... business to attend to upstairs." With that, he gave a curt bow and left her, once again, to her 'exploring'.

_Upstairs?_ she wondered to herself, having not had a proper schmooze about there yet. _In a bit,_ she told herself decisively, returning to the living room to sit in one of the armchairs and read one of the random magazines sitting on the coffee table. _This is nice._


	8. Chapter Eight

_**A/N:** Hey all, managed to confuse myself with the length of the last chapter, just looked at it and if the author's note at the beginning is removed... my god, it's_ pathetically _short, isn't it! With any luck,_ something _will happen in this chapter... it'll_ definitely _be longer anyways._

Thank-you again to all who reviewed and to all who have not reviewed but have read up until this far anyways. I suppose I should list the thankies so, hugs to the following: _**Penelope S Cartwright, Hanniballover1181, hi, Nanci, thebookisnotlikethemovie, Sincerely In Blood, AndreaB, Colonel Ketchup, CloseEncounters, Fighting-this-War, Quite Silent, Captain Yukiko, Alisha, Lecterlove, Shubunkin, Lindsay, Black Rose9, Arche De Katze and Sauron.**_

Also thanks to:  
**Clariz** - Thank-you so much for your encouraging comments, C, you're one of the many wonderful authors I look up to, so your reviews me one heck of a lot to me!  
**Guber** - Gube, my love, where would I be without you and your mental reviews? Though I have to say the last one frightened me somewhat.  
**Saavik** - Four reviews from you, each demanding more - I'm particularly sorry to have kept YOU waiting for so long!  
**Marcus Aurelius27** - Thank-you for your encouraging comments, MA, they filled me with inspiration at one point.  
**Kurt** - Wow! I got a review from Kurt! I think you've only reviewed a couple of my fics beforehand, so it was really great getting a review from you, not sure if I thanked you properly before... so thanks a lot, Kurtness, it means a lot to me.  
**Devil &Morbid724** - special thanks to you guys for all the hyperness! Haha, you rock!

Well... this is certainly a longer note than the other one... but it needed doing! Else all the thanks will be put into a new chapter at the end! I'll attempt to remember to keep my thanks up to date from now on! That's the list from all the reviews so far! I'm feeling really positive about this and :is hit with lettuce: _OOH LETTUCE! I LOVE LETTUCE! I AM A SALAD FREAK!_ :proud:_Okay, so that's done with, I'm a-gonna shut up now and carry on with this fic.  
_

* * *

Doctor Lecter checked his watch, it was getting on for nine o'clock. Switching the screen off but leaving the computer on, he rose from his chair and stretched, deciding to check on Clarice. He had not sensed any movement from downstairs for the last couple of hours, perhaps longer. He knew that she had not walked out of the house though. True, the door was unlocked... but it made the most agonizing creaks and groans as it swung open, being the heavy and very old door it was. He liked that though, _rustic,_ he commented to himself. Having finished stretching, he found himself decidedly peckish. _Peckish?_ he questioned himself, _famished, methinks. Dinnertime._ He gave the mirror on the opposite wall a sly smile, as if the two shared some cruel joke, before exiting the room, locking the door - slightly newer than the front door, but not by much - and making his way downstairs... very, very quietly.

Although the Doctor had cautiously crept down the stairs, however casual and leisurely his movements appeared, he was almost surprised not to have been set upon by a seemingly rabid ex-FBI agent. _**Almost **surprised._ Upon his entry to and surveillance of the living room, he found himself distractedly smiling at the vision of a completely relaxed and sleeping Clarice Starling. _Angel,_ his thoughts wandered as he stood, mesmerised by a stray tendril of her fiery hair, _my Angel, dead to the world in this escape from time._ As silently as he had slipped into the room, he slunk out, a smug expression on his face. "Phase One" of The New Game was complete - she felt at home enough to fall asleep in his favourite chair. _Perfect._ He smiled again to himself as he entered the kitchen and opened the fridge, checking the many drawers before reaching to the back of the appliance to get to what he wanted. _Something special... for a very special someone._ Thoughts pushed aside, he began preparing dinner.

* * *

Clarice dreamed.

She dreamed of a house... her house, apparently... and a man... that man. The man who seemed so familiar, yet she could not place his identity. He stood before the beautiful dream-house, his back to her, and on the breeze she caught a scent of his aftershave... her own voice travelled with the scent on thewind...

_"You have a certain presence about you...  
__it's unmistakeable...  
__and you are wearing some strong, albeit expensive, aftershave -  
__a little difficult to mistake you really..."_

She knew then.

She knew who the man was before he turned around to smile at her - a genuine smile that reached his eyes - and beckon her to join him... to go into the perfect house.

She stared, lost in his eyes... lost in thought... in a dream...

He was her sworn enemy. He confused her, and she was once fool enough to mistake that confusion for intrigue... _how_ could he intrigue her?

Then, as quickly as his scent and her voice had filled her head, Clarice lost it... she lost the dream... the vision... the man... the house... the perfect setting _lost_, in its entirety, to her sleepy mind.

As she slowly came to, another scent filled her nostrils, causing her stomach to grumble rather loudly. She leisurely stretched, glancing at the brass carriage clock which sat on the unit that housed the television. _Ten forty?_ She stared at the clock, making sure she had indeed read the time correctly.

"Ah, welcome back, Clarice."

She snapped her head back around to face the source of the melodically metallic voice. _Was that quick enough to warrant whiplash?_ she curiouslywondered before croaking her somewhat delayed response of "Doctor Lecter?"

"The one and only, my dear," he replied, amusement dancing in his eyes, hauntingly reflecting the fire which he must have lit while she slept. _I must have been pretty deep,_ she mused, _in the house of a killer? Girl, what would Ardelia say?_ To be honest with herself, it was not what Ardelia would say, rather it was what she would **do**. At an all tooaccurate guess, Clarice reckoned Ardelia would somehowfind the co-ordinates of her remotelocation, storm on down there and blast the hell out of whoever had hold of her. She harboured a niggling suspicion that even Hannibal 'the cannibal' Lecter would feel a twinge of fear for Ardelia Mapp as she screamed "FBI!" at him, throwing expensive furniture around. _No doubt the fear would be for the furniture, not himself,_ Clarice mused, unaware that she had snorted in a considerably derisive manner. Upon noticing the Doctor's quizzical expression, she clamped down on her wandering thoughts, saving them for later.

"What smells good?"

"Dinner," the gentleman replied bluntly, only to continue, "I apologise for the late hour, but you appeared to be," he paused, as if searching for the correct words, "_enjoying_ your dream."

_Enjoying! What did I do?_ Clarice wondered. Clearly, her distress was showing as the Doctor regarded her with curiosity. _You suck at this, Clarice,_ she told herself. _An actress you shall never be!_

"Great. What do we got?" She sat up properly and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, ready to face whatever he was going to throw at her, whether it be literally or metaphorically.

"It's a surprise." She snorted at his reply, ready to play his game.

"Like I couldn't predict that you were going to say that. Honestly, Doctor, you lack originality."

"Oh, however shall I go on living?" he questioned the ceiling with mock worry before returning his now serious gaze to lock with hers, "Clarice, I do believe I have displayed more originality than a mauve giraffe masquerading as a duck-billed platypus," he replied flatly - apparently completely serious.

Clarice blinked, she had no idea what he had just said. _The man has lost it. I heard mauve and duck... that was enough._ She would have been minded to laugh or, at the very least, snort at his comments but her mind wandered to the food he had clearly prepared just for them. She shuddered, mind reeling at the many ways in which she could get out of dinner. Politeness won over all else.

"You know, Doctor Lecter, I don't think I'm so hungry anymore. Could you excuse me from dinner?" Her stomach, however, gave her away.

"Little Starling, your stomach suggests you are famished. You haven't eaten for over twelve hours now."

She chuckled nervously. "Oh, yeah... I forgot I never had the chance to enjoy my mushroom stroganoff."

"Indeed."

Suddenly, an idea hit her between the eyes. "You _do_ know I'm a vegetarian?"

"Of course." Little did Clarice know that his reply was a blatant lie.

"Really?"

"You seem surprised at this revelation. Do I not know most things about you?"

"I suppose. You know, if I knew a little more personal information about you..." she trailed off.

"Do continue."

Clarice shook her head. "No, don't worry... it was irrelevant and silly." She rose from her chair, _his chair,_ and stepped past him in the doorway, inhaling as unnoticeably as she possibly could. _Same aftershave. Wait... you just sniffed Hannibal Lecter, who happensto bethe sniffer of all sniffers. You know he knows you sniffed him!_ She shut her unruly and paranoid thoughts up with nothing short of a mental slap without missing a beat on her way to the dining room through the kitchen. The Doctor, she knew, would note that she had not taken the door leading directly to the dining room from the living room. She wanted to see what the kitchen looked like after he was finished with the mouth-watering and allegedly vegetarian 'whatever-it-was' that he had been cooking.

She was correct in that he sensed her 'sniff' of him and also in that he noted she did not take the easy route to the dining room. Of the two she expected him to be more wary of the latter, but it was the former which intrigued him far more. His thoughts wandered as he stood still in the doorway of the dining room, although to him he was in the courtyard of his Memory Palace. He was deadly curious as to whether the charming Shadowcastle139 had replied to his e-mail. _Ifshe returned from wherever she 'g2g'd to,_ he reminded himself of her age and realised that she was quite possibly in bed. He also realised that one Clarice Starling was staring at him as he returned from his courtyard of thought to the real world.

"Shall we?" He raised an elegant brow as he pulled out a chair and motioned for her to be seated.

"Ever the gentleman, Doctor." She obliged and sat, eyeing the silverware, noting that it was not from the drawer which she had previously dropped.

_Part two, act one,_ he thought, concealing his amusement at her obliviousness to his intentions which, to him, were almost painfully obvious.


	9. Chapter Nine

The cannibal and the ex-special agent ate in moderate silence, the only sounds coming from Clarice as she expressed her enjoyment through a series of "mmm!" noises. Doctor Lecter smiled, but did not comment on her reaction to the meal he had prepared for them both.

"What _is_ this?" she questioned after a beat of silence, gesturing with her fork to the remaining food on her plate. Lecter replied, knowing full well what his cover story was.

"Quorn." He smiled at her surprised expression. "It tastes a little like chicken, doesn't it?"

"Okay, okay, stop there," Clarice said, putting her fork down, "this is getting weird. What are you up to?"

"Polite conversation, Clarice. No more, no less."

"Oh, uh... makes sense I suppose." She blushed, embarrassed.

"I confess, I've become somewhat partial to the substitute."

"It _does_ taste a little like chicken," she agreed after a moment of consideration, then continued, "you're not going vegetarian, surely?" She was joking, he knew.

"Perish the thought." Finished, he neatly set his knife and fork down on the side of the plate. Clarice gave a final appreciative "mmm!" and followed suit.

They sat for a few minutes in an almost companionable silence; Clarice reflecting on the thoroughly enjoyable meal she had just consumed; the Good Doctor seemingly lost in thought over the meat substitute, Quorn. _Tasted like chicken, most likely because it was chicken, my dear. There is hope yet_, he thought in an uncharacteristically jovial manner. Remembering his role as host, he offered Clarice a wide variety of desserts, all of which she politely declined. He shot her a questioning look.

"Could I be excused, Doctor?" she asked, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand. "I'm still tired I guess."

"Indeed. Perhaps you should get some more rest, it has been a decidedly taxing day for you." He glanced at the Rolex on his wrist. "It is late."

She replied with a short nod, before adding, "I'll go back upstairs, though that armchair was damn comfortable!" With that, Clarice Starling left Hannibal Lecter at the table, leaving the dining room through the living room. Relieved, he thanked whatever might be listening that she did not choose to go through the kitchen, for all of the packaging for the chicken she had been tricked into eating lay strewn across one of the granite worktops.

Silently, and with his usual grace, he rose and vacated the dining room via the kitchen.

Clarice, at the top of the stairs, had every intention of returning to the small room she had been held captive in earlier in the day. Before she left the landing, she allowed herself to survey the area.

At the other side of the landing, she noted that the study was dark, whereas before it had been illuminated by the glow of the laptop screen. What caught her eye most however, was the door to the next room, which had previously been closed. _His room?_ she wondered, staring at the door, which stood ajar in its sturdy frame. Decisively she moved across the hardwood floor as quietly as she could, intent on taking a quick peek about the room. She paused at the darkened doorway, having second thoughts. _It's an invasion of his privacy,_ she considered seriously. Before she could proceed, a metallic voice intervened.

"Feel free to explore that room, Clarice." She whirled around to face the Doctor. He nodded to the door and simply stated, "Guest room."

"Jesus!" She exhaled the breath she had been holding, air hissing past her teeth. One hand rested over her racing heart, the other gripped the doorframe tightly. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" He looked at her, head cocked to one side. _So you find it amusing now, do you?_ her mind questioned him.

"Not at all."

"Well," she continued, straightening in the doorway, "do you have to creep around all the damn time? It's unnerving!" she exclaimed, having almost recovered.

"I see. I apologise for startling you so. I merely came to mention that you should sleep in there rather than the other room. It is ready for use and much more comfortable."

"Okay. I suppose I won't miss that room too much," she gestured to the doorway at the other side of the stairs, "what with everything that happened."

"Indeed." He appeared lost in thought, but soon snapped out of his reverie. "Well, goodnight then, Agent Starling."

"Goodnight, Doctor Lecter," she returned, not bothering to correct him on her status as an 'Agent'. She moved into the dark room, closing the door behind her before searching for the light switch. Not a moment after she had flipped on the lights, there came a knock at her door. She opened it a crack to peer out at the Good Doctor. _Who else could it be, Clarice? Honestly, you're a weird one._ "Uh, hi?" she greeted, unsure as to why he stood outside the door once more.

"In case you should need anything, I shall be upstairs," he said. Clarice, realising how anti-social she appeared, opened the door fully and looked for the way 'upstairs'. _There's another upstairs?_ Apparently, the Doctor had sensed her confusion. "Through the smaller study," he gestured to the other room, "there is a spiral staircase hidden behind an old screen."

"I see." She nodded her understanding. "Zombie hamsters attack in the early hours; through the study, up the stairs. I'll be there like a shot."

"See that you are." He smiled at her, his small white teeth glimmering in the dim light of the landing. "Goodnight, then," he said, turning on his heel, moving towards the stairs.

_Probably has a kitchen to clean up,_ Clarice considered, closing the door and leaning against it as she gave another long yawn. It was then that she looked to the bed – a four poster. In an incredibly girly, overly un-Clarice moment, she ran and leapt on to the mattress, stretching out on it, revelling in how unbelievably comfortable it was. _This is so good, it should be illegal,_ she thought blissfully. To her right, there was a bedside cabinet, atop that sat a lamp. She turned the lamp on and reluctantly rose to switch the main lights off.

It was then, standing with her finger on the light switch, that she realised just how comfortable she had become in the house of the renowned serial killer. She thought of how she had no idea where she was, though she was certain he had not taken her out of the country, and wondered just what his point, which had yet to be made clear to her, actually was. She also realised that she had nothing to sleep in.

_Looks like you're in for a night of nakedness, between satin sheets! _Inwardly, she could not wait to get into the bed. Atop the covers she had experienced a few wondrous moments of comfort, but to spend a whole night actually in the bed – naked too – was a prospect that Clarice just could not resist. She had to stop herself from humming as she undressed, carelessly throwing her clothes over an armchair in the corner of the room. She slipped into bed, under the sheets, enjoying the feel of them against her bare skin as she sank into the mattress. With a sigh of contentment, she turned off the lamp and settled down to go to sleep.

* * *

Doctor Lecter had cleared the kitchen of anything remotely related to chicken save for the porcelain bird which held the eggs. He closed the door connecting to the dining room and crossed back into the hallway, flipping off the lights as he left his kitchen. _At the heart of the home,_ he snorted to himself at his thoughts. Stifling a yawn, he ascended the stairs, wondering in earnest how his sleepy Little Starling was doing. She appeared to be settling in well, _despite her apprehensiveness_, he added.

Almost silently, he opened the door to the guest bedroom and stared into the space before him, eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness. He stood, watching her sleep more peacefully than she ever had in her own home, that he knew for certain, having watched her on many an occasion. Yet he still found himself transfixed by the subtle beauty she exuded unknowingly, even as she slept. Snapping himself out of his reverie, the Doctor crossed the room and closed the heavy curtains, knowing how the merciless sun would flood through the bay windows at first light, waking her at an ungodly hour.

It was at the windows, as he turned from them, that he could swear he heard her utter his name... softer than the whispers of a slow summer breeze, he was sure he had heard her correctly. In the shadows, he took a moment to study her more closely, noting that she was, in fact, nude beneath the sheets. Finding the temperature in the room had risen somewhat, the Good Doctor took the time to leave one of the dresser drawers open a crack before making a hasty exit. _Until the morning,_ he bid her a silent farewell, leaving the rooms to retire upstairs to his own.

Like a lonely ghost, he moved through the study and ascended the partly concealed staircase, reminding himself, as he reached the top of the stairs and the main study, that he had not visited his Memory Palace for far too long. He opened the heavy double doors and stepped into the master bedroom they revealed, smiling smugly at the grandeur of his own, highly personal space.

So it was that a tired Hannibal Lecter undressed and slipped into his own king-size bed. Unused to sleeping naked, but deciding to do so, he found himself at a slight discomfort, but soon succumbed to a deep sleep.

Having forgotten to visit the Memory Palace once again, Doctor Lecter dreamed for the first time since the night before 'The Chesapeake Incident', as he had come to refer to it.


End file.
